


Use Your Fingers

by SuperCollegian



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Slightly apprehensive Stiles, hair petting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-16
Updated: 2013-07-16
Packaged: 2017-12-20 09:44:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/885795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperCollegian/pseuds/SuperCollegian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And Derek Hale actually just whined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Use Your Fingers

Stiles is looking down at Derek from the edge of his very own bed, in his very own room, in his very own house. And there Derek is, on his knees, shirtless, pantless, in black boxer briefs and the most patient look on anyone’s face that Stiles has ever seen. Hesitantly, Stiles reaches his hands out and Derek leans in. Stiles’ hands pauses as the edge of Derek’s messy, black hair, clean for the first time in ages. Suddenly, he can’t go through with it and his hands coming scrambling back to his lap. They both let out a miserable sigh.

"What, Stiles," Derek growls. The patience is lost, totally and utterly lost, and Stiles understands. It’s been an hour. They've been sitting and doing a whole lotta nothing with brief, almost promising moments.

Stiles opens his mouth a few times---once, twice, thrice---before he’s able to say something, though it’s not very intelligent. "I just...you want me to pet you..."

Derek's face instantly sets another frown line and the frustration is hilariously present in his face. "Just touch me."

Stiles laugh-scoffs nervously. "...as if that's not weird enough...but you’re just...” 

“Just what?”

Stiles takes the time to gesticulate wildly, looking anywhere by the top of Derek’s head. “You....we...why do you have to be kneeling? Isn’t it kind of sub-”

Derek snarls.

"Okayokay. Potentially awful choice of words, man, but...Derek. You're...it's just weird, dude. I know it's impossible for you not to smell my...pheromones or whatever...”

“Stiles.”

“Der-rek,” Stiles hisses back, now a little frustrated himself. Derek looks up at him, a little surprised, a little something else, but Stiles holds the stern gaze. “You put yourself here. I know I usually just go along with things, but this. Is. Weird.”

Derek makes yet another frustrated noise―isn't he the talkative one―and re-adjusts himself on his knees. "Stiles, focus."

“I am focused, Derek, I’m just...I’m just confused.”

Stiles extends his fingers again and they hover over the top of Derek’s head. it’s pretty obvious that Derek wants this because every time Stiles extends his hand, Derek his pushing up to meet them. Maybe this is a grounding mechanism for Derek. Maybe he had someone do this for him when he was younger. Maybe he just wants an innocent touch for once.

“Stiles, please...” And Derek Hale actually just whined. “Just...”

Stiles’ hands plunge, like they’re diving into a pot of gold and Derek just keens, falling forward and limp, pressing his face into Stiles’ thigh. Stiles starts a combing motion with each hand, from forehead hairline all the way down to the nape of Derek’s neck. Using his blunt fingernails, he scritches Derek’s scalp a little here and there before dragging his nails all the way through.

Derek's face has gone quite slack. He’s breathing hard but short against Stiles’ leg, and he’s bringing his arms up and around Stiles’ back to pull them closer together. Derek presses his face into the warmth of Stiles’ abdomen and makes some sort of subwoofer noise that makes Stiles’ spinal column clack. Stiles isn't sure he hears it, probably feels it, when Derek starts to give instruction. "Yeah...." Derek's hands rake lightly, trailing from Stiles' lower back, across his thighs, and then under them, accompanied with a light squeeze. It makes Stiles tingle in the greatest way. "Use your fingers..."

From the midline of Derek's head, Stiles' hands roam down and his palms cup Derek's jaw. Gently, Stiles scratches along the stubble. He's careful not to stroke against the grain, so he lifts his palms and uses his fingers to dance little ribbons into Derek's face.

Stiles runs his thumbs over the sharp lines of Derek's face. He starts with forehead, sweeping over and smoothing out the frown lines. His fingers roam down the side, over the cheekbones, and across the cheek. With a feathery caution, Stiles rests his thumb on Derek's bottom lip.

Derek parts his lips without the slightest hesitation. He doesn't even growl.

"Shit..." Stiles breathes. And god. He's just trying to breathe...breathing. Oh. "Fuck..."

And there go Derek's encouraging hands coming up over the outsides of Stiles' thighs. Holy shit.

"Derek."

Looked drunk. Looked dazed. Looked like he needed this more than he originally expected. Pulling Stiles closer, Derek pushed his face into Stiles stomach and nuzzled. He was definitely making some sort of growly, satisfied sound barely within the range of Stiles' hearing.

But still. Stiles was only a teenaged, virgin boy with a limit on how much vibrating and touching he could take.

"DerekDerek..."

"Mm?"

"You gotta let off me before you get me off..." Stiles was so tense he was about to catch a cramp in his leg. "Or I’m going to spoil the moment."

“Not to worry, Stiles. We have the whole night.”

**Author's Note:**

> Didn't exactly edit this...I'm a part time drabbler anyway. Thanks for reading, I'm open to suggestions for other things. Leave me a comment if you have improvement critiques.


End file.
